


be concerned

by reeso



Category: Castlevania (Cartoon)
Genre: High School AU, M/M, Recreational Drug Use, graphic language (mostly from trevor), this started out as a crack fic asdfghjkl, will add more tags when i think of them
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-19
Updated: 2018-12-27
Packaged: 2019-08-26 02:54:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16673371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reeso/pseuds/reeso
Summary: That one where Trevor sells weed in the third floor bathroom and accidentally makes a few friends on the way. Oh, and maybe gets a boyfriend.





	1. City of Haze

**Author's Note:**

> sooo this started out as a crack fic and just derailed into a pile of sad because characters. i’m going to try really hard not to abandon this one. special thanks to my lovely gf whois my spectacular beta reader <3

Trevor Belmont has a free period before his lunch. He thanks whatever higher power there is out there for helping him scrape by in french two years in a row, because there is probably no word in either language to describe how much he hated french. (Not to say that he wasn’t good at it--Trevor had cursed out his french teacher in his mother tongue on the last day of sophomore year in his old school. He’s just lazy.) The guidance counsellor was suspicious of his motives due to his lovely wreck of a transcript, but Trevor was able to make himself look innocent enough so that she relented.

So, what does a kid like Trevor do in this span of 70 minutes everyday?

Simple. He goes to the third floor boy’s bathroom, drinks shitty vodka from a slightly dented plastic water bottle, and sells weed for whatever price he so pleases. You know, the usual.

The kids in this town are so desperate for a fix that it’s kind of pathetic. He figures that his stuff probably the only thing they could get their grubby little paws on--which is saying something, since the town he’s been plopped into is a decently wealthy one. But it does make a bit of sense, because the fucking cops breathe down everybody’s damn necks here. This would be daunting for anybody but Trevor--because Trevor Belmont is a brazen sonuvabitch who couldn’t give less of a flying fuck if he gets tossed into rehab or juvi again at this point. So, business is good.

As usual, when the bell rings, Trevor takes his time getting out of his pre calc class, since he’s already a bit tipsy at this point. He’s most content when he’s drunk or high, but the only downside to this is the bleariness that comes with it makes him obnoxiously sensitive to loud noises. The more intoxicated he gets, the less awful it is, but he usually hasn’t had enough booze by this time to be unaffected by said bleariness. So, he waits until the majority of the travellers have exited the hallway, sipping idly on his ‘water’, then gets up and shuffles out. He takes his time getting up to his usual spot, knowing full well that there will be at least four people waiting on him to arrive. There’s a certain smugness that comes with seeing them light up with anxious delight at the sight of him trudging down the hall. His ego lives on little things like these--it reminds him that his existence is still a little bit necessary in the world that couldn’t bother to give a damn about him.

When he gets to the third floor bathroom, a few of his regulars are waiting for him, which is a normal sight on an average day such as this. But there’s a surprise waiting for him today at the door. Sitting beside one of his junior customers is a new person, scribbling away in a notebook that appears to be full of detailed notes. Normally, Trevor wouldn’t bat an eyelash about a new customer-- in fact, he’s always happy to have a new customer-- but the thing that makes it...interesting to say the least, is the fact that it’s a girl. Girls in this school don’t really come to him, usually because they don’t want to trek into the boy’s room (completely understandable in Trevor’s opinion--the boy’s room on the third floor can be fucking nasty at times), or they can’t find a good time to approach him without getting both of them caught. They usually just have guys that they can trust get the weed for them. But this girl seems completely undaunted by either fact, and Trevor has to give her that; she’s either really ballsy or really desperate. Trevor’s leaning on the latter--The girl looks like hell. Her short, strawberry blonde waves are mussed and sticking up in certain places, and the skin under her eyes is dark with bags of exhaustion. Trevor feels a bit bad for her instantly.

“Alright you little shits, your gracious weed mother has arrived.” Trevor grunts, and everyone looks up from their phones (or in the girl’s case, her notes), and they immediately start digging through their pockets for their money. Trevor clears his throat and shakes his head at them when they look up. “Meet me inside, I’m not gonna wait for you to shove money in my face. ‘Sides, I can’t keep track of everyone’s money like that.” 

Trevor shuffles into the bathroom and immediately opens a window, then begins to set up shop. He lights a blunt for himself while everyone files in, leaning against the wall as they line up. The girl slowly meanders over to the end of the line, clutching a small wad of money to her side. His regulars are equally intrigued by her, it seems, as some of them keep stealing glances and others blatantly stare at her. He feels a twinge of irritation at that, but he blames it on the fact that he hasn’t had enough booze today to be comfortable.

He takes care of all of his regular customers quickly and shoo’s them away as soon as he gives them whatever they need. Soon, all that’s left is the girl. She appears to be trying her best to be confident, but Trevor can still see the clear anxiety in her petite frame. He gives her a lazy smile, and just that seems to calm her a bit.

“Hello. I-I’m very stressed right now, and I’ve tried what I can, but I cannot find anything that works for me,” She says, a thick german accent clinging to her words.. “I know that drugs are...not the best thing, but I heard from a classmate that a senior sells marijuana in here, and may give discounts based on how stressed you are.”

“Well, seems you heard right then.” Trevor replies. He takes a short drag of his blunt, holds it, then sighs it out. “Trevor Belmont, resident king of the third floor bathroom and gracious weed mother, at your service.”

“Sypha Belnades. I transferred here last year.” She says, giving him a little smile.

“Interesting.” Trevor says, pretending to care. “Now, pleasantries aside, how much do you have on you?”

“Huh?” She asks, then quickly realizes what he’s talking about. “Oh, money? I have fifty dollars right now...I hope that’s enough.”

“Yeah, it’s fine.” Trevor pats the floor tiles next to him. “Gimme thirty and I’ll give you like...what I deem is like a few days supply? And I’ll teach you how to fucking smoke, because you obviously have never touched anything that even remotely resembles a blunt, love.”

“I don’t know whether to take that as a compliment or an insult.” Sypha mutters, but settles down beside him regardless.

Trevor wouldn’t assume now that this girl would become one of his closest friends in the coming months. But he does know, is that this girl, Sypha Belnades, is quite the intriguing one indeed.

***  
The weeks after pass by rather quickly with Sypha coming to visit him all the time in his...territory. Suddenly, it’s already a week into October. The school doesn’t have very good heating, but Trevor doesn’t mind very much. He can pull out his favorite sweater now anyway; it’s a very cozy hoodie that he’d stolen from a temporary brother he had last year. Money, however, is getting a bit tighter. One of his suppliers caught the attention of the cops recently, and of course, it had to be the one nearest to him. So, he’s only able to rely on what’s left of his own private stash of weed to get a fix, since vodka is pretty damn expensive, and his foster parents are already starting to become suspicious of him. He’s told his regulars that he’d send the word when he’d figured the whole situation out. So now, the only person who visits regularly is Sypha.

He’s currently dozing a bit, head propped on his knees and eyes closed. Today has not been a very good day. He’s painfully half sober and his head is fucking throbbing, and he only brought a little bit of weed with him today, which he smoked earlier. At this rate, he’s going to start having to take his damn meds again...He huffs out a half sigh and shifts a little to get more comfortable. As he does though, he begins to hear voices coming from outside the door, coming closer and getting louder as they go. They seem to be arguing.

“You’re not my damn parent, Adrien. They’re far away from me where I can be left alone. I can take care of myself.”

“I am not trying to be your parent, Sypha. I’m simply trying to prevent you from making stupid decisions out of desperation.”

“Well you can shove that advice up your arsehole and let me be!”

Sypha bursts into the bathroom, startling Trevor out of his half dozing state. He blinks slowly and rubs his eyes wearily when he sees that she’s positively fuming—something he learned to avoid making her in the few weeks they’ve known each other. Hot on her heels is a tall boy with long, platinum blonde hair and golden eyes, glittering with annoyance. Trevor recognizes the prick immediately from his AP European History class. He smirks.

“Now, what would the distinguished Adrian Tepes have business doing in here of all places?” He asks in a sing-song voice. “He giving you trouble Syph? I’m sure I could ward him away with my nasty presence alone.”

The boy’s eyes narrow at him, and Trevor’s smirk grows to a shit eating grin. Everyone in this school knew of Adrian Tepes; even Trevor, who’d barely been in this town for over two months. The Tepes Family is ridiculously wealthy, and has lived in this town since it was founded however many years ago. The way he carried himself rubbed Trevor the wrong way instantly when he’d first seen him; he could only describe it as a ‘holier than thou’ kind of stride. Oh, how Trevor hates those kinds of people.

“Honestly, that might be helpful at this point.” She sighs, and pulls a wad of money out of her sweater pocket. Adrien instantly moves to grab for it, but she swipes her hand out of the way before he can. She glares. “Just leave if you’re going to be obnoxious.”

“What she said.” Trevor mutters under his breath, rubbing his temples.

“I cannot just let you fork over money to someone who’s obviously manipulating and extorting you.” Adrien growls, blatantly ignoring him.

“Uh, ‘scuse you.” Trevor slowly stands, slightly unsteady on his feet. He’s pretty wide awake now. “I’m trying to make a living here. Going to the fucking city slums to get your weed is much more dangerous than someone in high school selling weed to stressed students, you self righteous prick.”

“Selling drugs at all is a deplorable thing to do.” Adrian hisses. “How about you try to make an honest living rather than—“

“Don’t. Finish. That. Sentence.” Trevor growls back. “We can’t all live in fucking luxury, sheltered from the real goddamned world like you, arsehole. Sorry to pop your fucking bubble.”

 

“Enough!” Sypha shouts. “Adrien, get out. Trevor, sit down. Go.”

Adrien casts a glare at Trevor over his shoulder before stalking out of the bathroom. Trevor stares hard at his back the whole way, and doesn’t stop until he’s disappeared behind the creaky, wooden door. Only then does he slowly slide back down the wall, curling back into his previous position. A few moments later, Sypha kneels down next to him, large blue eyes swimming with apologies. 

“Never bring him here again.” He murmurs.

Sypha nods vigorously, but before she can say anything more, the bell rings. Sypha bids him a soft farewell, and he listens to her shoes clacking on the tiles as she leaves. 

***  
“Alright, We’re doing a partner project.” Mrs. Bradbury announces. “Don’t get excited, I’ve already assigned you all a partner. It will be on the bottom of your sheet.”

It’s later now, last period. Trevor sits in the back corner, staring blankly out the window. He’s barely listening to her as she talks, but when a paper is placed on his desk, only then does he tear his eyes away from his dream world to pay a bit of attention. He skims through the directions quickly. It doesn’t seem too hard. But on the bottom of the page, a name written in precise cursive has his heart dropping down a ten foot hole.

Adrian Tepes.

“You’ve absolutely got to be fucking kidding me...” He mutters under his breath as his peers move around in search of their partners. He spots the platinum haired ponce across the room, and almost automatically, he tosses his hood over his permanently mussed hair. It’s not enough.

“Belmont?” A voice asks in a rather lofty tone. He looks up, and there Adrian Tepes is. Before he can say anything else, Trevor’s holding up a finger so he can speak.

“I do my part, you do your part. We interact as little as fucking possible.” Trevor growls quietly.

Adrian gives him a deadpan look, which he meets head on with his own glare. Finally, Adrian breaks away from the staring match.

“Fine.” He says tersely, and slides into the seat in front of him.

They work separately for the entire period, Trevor perfectly content with not having to speak a single word to the prick. However, in the last few minutes of the period, Adrian stops him before he can get up completely.

“We are going to need to work on the powerpoint together at some point. I suggest that we meet somewhere to work.” He says.

“Then we’ll meet at your house. Since you got the big pretty one, anyway.” Trevor grunts, but Adrian automatically shakes his head.

“My father is having renovations done. We cannot work there.”

“Fine, we’ll just go to the damn library or something. I really don’t give a shit.” Trevor spits. The bell rings noisily then, and he’s out the door in 3 seconds flat.

He meets Sypha at the front of the school, like they’ve been doing since he found out she only lived a few blocks away from him. She looks positively frazzled, as usual. She smiles at him, but he notices the apologetic undertone. 

“Hey Trevor,” She says. “I hope the rest of your day was better?”

“Fuck no. I get to work on a month long project with Mr. Holier-Than-Thou.” Trevor grumbles. They start their trek to their respective houses; Thankfully, neither is very far. “Why the hell were you even talking to him in the first place?”

Sypha sighs, pulling her coat tighter around him. “He is a friend. He was just...concerned about me. I talked to him about it during our calculus course, and he said that he would apologize. I trust that he did?”

“Maybe that’s what he was trying to say.” Trevor wonders aloud, more to himself than to Sypha. She, however, glares at him and punches him in the arm. Hard. “Ow!!”

“Belmont, you need to learn how to be civil towards people. You can’t just be bitter forever—“

“Like hell I can’t!” He retorts with an incredulous snicker. “I can be bitter all I want, Sypha. Get over it.”

Sypha sighs lightly. “You are insufferable.”

“You know it.”

They walk in relative silence, occasionally chatting about trivial things not pertaining to school in any way. Within a few minutes, they arrive at Sypha’s street—a pleasant little dead end that’s not so unlike his own. Her house is large and colored soft pastel colors that go well with the neatly trimmed grass. Trevor bids her farewell at her door, but before he can leave, Sypha stops him. She points to the castle like house at the end of the street, silent and imposing.

“That’s Adrian’s house. It was quite easy to get acquainted to him with what happened.” She says.

“Since what happened?” Trevor asks, pretending to be more nonchalantly interested than quite intrigued.

“Since his mother passed away. She died just before I moved here.”

“Huh.” Trevor says, looking up at the overbearing house. “Tragic.”

“Ugh, just...just go, you arsehole.” Sypha grunts, and leaves him standing in her driveway. Trevor chuckles a bit and waves two fingers in farewell, and she rolls her eyes at him as she walks inside her house. He begins walking towards his own house, mind idly wandering.

It’s only when he’s unlocking the front door of his house that he realizes that Adrian’s house was completely and utterly silent, void of any sign of construction whatsoever. He quickly bats the thought train from his mind.

What should he care, anyway?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tell me what you think! i’m going to try and make a semi regular schedule. semi. love you guys!


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's a little more understanding between them. It doesn't mean Trevor likes him. At all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks again to my gf--this story would be a little ugly if not for her awesome editing skills <3

“Belmont.”

It’s Wednesday now, school having ended not even a minute ago. Trevor’s just on his way out, but his path to the door is blocked by a certain blonde haired pain in his arse. He lets out a long, suffering sigh.

“Literally what do you even want from me, Tepes? The agreement is that we interact as little as possible.” Trevor growls. 

“This is called a partner project. We cannot simply work for a month long project without talking at all.” Adrian snaps, glaring. He then takes a soft breath in, seemingly trying to calm himself. “We need to work on this project together, whether you like it or not. I understand that you may hate me or don’t care what we get on this project, but I do, and so we need to work together. Once a week, the local library. 3:00.”

Trevor opens his mouth to say something scathing in return, but for once, he doesn’t. He just lets out a little groan of discontent, then shoves his hands into his pockets. “Whatever.” He says, moving to slide past him. Adrian, however, stops him before he can go.

 

“Tomorrow, then.” He says, and it’s not phrased as a question.

“Like I said—whatever.” Trevor then shoulders his way out of the classroom, shoving his balled fists into the pocket of his sweatshirt. 

He spends the next day positively dreading after school the whole day, but when last period arrives, he finds that Adrian is absent. He thinks nothing of it, simply deciding to do his share of the work for the period and going home after school. But the next day, he’s absent again. And the day after that. And finally, on Monday, Adrian decides to show up to school with a black eye. Trevor stares rather incredulously at him as he comes into class, his usual confident stride reduced to limping shuffle. He says nothing to Trevor when he slides into the seat in front of him, and for once, Trevor decides that he has to speak to the fucker first.

“Christ Tepes, didn’t know another person hates you as much as I do. The fuck happened to you?” Trevor asks. “Not that really care, it’s just you were the one who was fussing about the project anyway.”

“It truly isn’t any of your business, Belmont.” Alucard snaps, but he quickly amends himself. “I apologize. I’ll just give you my number.”

Adrian rattles off the digits when Trevor pulls out his phone, and just to spite him, Trevor puts his name as ‘ponce from euro’. They get a fair amount of work done in the time given for the period, and they agree to meet on the following Monday at the library as a reschedule.

So, Trevor’s a little peeved when Adrian requests another reschedule, and doesn’t show up to school on Tuesday.

He returns on Wednesday, looking a bit disheveled of all things. That one was quite the rarity, to see Adrian Tepes looking anything but perfect. (In the way that his hair is brushed and his uniform is in order, not in the attractive way. Definitely not.) But with his uniform looking rumpled and the black eye still quite black and blue, he truly looks frazzled. Like Sypha level frazzled, but worse because of the bruises.

Adrian only mutters an apology to Trevor as a greeting, and Trevor actually manages to keep his big mouth shut for once. Something is obviously wrong, and Trevor has a bad feeling that he knows what it is. He only keeps it as a hunch in the back of his mind, however, reluctant to jump to conclusions. Somewhere in his brain, a little voice keeps telling him to be bitter over their first rather awful introduction to one another. He’s rather torn in regards to Adrian Tepes now, all because of this stupid project and his sudden stupid absences.

Adrian suggests that they just meet at the library after school since he’s here, and Trevor agrees with significantly less bite than usual. They meet there about an hour after school ends, and work in relative silence together. Once they’re done, just as they’re exiting the library, Trevor decides to indulge himself in a bit of curiosity.

“Tepes, wait. I’ve got a question.” He says, albeit reluctantly. The blond haired boy turns with one of his eyebrows raised; a clear sign of ‘go on’. Trevor huffs out a sigh. “I wanted to know why you’ve suddenly been disappearing. Even Sypha doesn’t know where you are, and you guys seem pretty buddy-buddy with one another.”

“My father is ill.” He says shortly. “I’m the only one available to take care of him.”

“But what about the bruises, though?” 

“I was jumped. I think you know by now that I’m a walking target.”

“And why can’t we meet at your house? I walk Sypha home a lot since we live close, and there weren’t any renovations going on in there. You could’ve just said--”

“Well maybe, just maybe, my life isn’t as damn perfect as you think it is.” Adrian snaps suddenly, knocking Trevor from his ponderings. Trevor raises an eyebrow at him, minutely startled by the outburst. But Adrian’s apparently not done. “Maybe, just maybe, I’ve got problems too. But why the hell would you care, Belmont?! You seem quite intent on hating me for the image of the person that I appear to be.”

“It’s not like you’re some kind of saint about that either!” Trevor growls right back. Now he’s getting pissed off. “You don’t even know me, and you seem to think of me as some despicable piece of human garbage because I sell shit to people. Like what did I ever do to you?”

“You got another of the people I care about into substance use! That’s what you did!” 

Suddenly, Adrian stops short. He looks mortified. “Forget I said anything,” He says hurriedly. “I will see you tomorrow.”

And he’s off before Trevor can get a word in edgewise.

***  
It’s late, near midnight, when Trevor receives two texts from Adrian. He’s a bit intrigued to say the least, due to the late hour and the little spat they had earlier. Contrary to Adrian’s wishes, he had not pushed a wod of what Adrian had said from his mind all evening. 

ponce from euro:  
-I apologize for how I acted towards you the first time that we met, as well as this afternoon. I’ve been meaning to apologize to you in person for some time, but you did not seem to want it. I’m taking the opportunity to say it before you go back to hating me.  
-Addiction is simply a very sensitive subject for me, and I don’t approve of harmful substances like drugs of alcohol, but it wasn’t fair of me to say some of the things I said.

Trevor decides to humor Adrian this time. He feels...different about Adrian now. Like he understands him a bit more.

Me:  
-its fine  
-sorry for prying so much, you dont need to tell me anything you dont want to

ponce from euro:  
-It’s alright.

Trevor, however, being the nosy little shit he usually is, is still very much interested in seeing if his hunch was correct. He couldn’t just pass this opportunity up. Adrian’s walls were obviously down at the moment, and it seemed they were finally burying the hatchet between them. Why the hell not.

Me:  
-you dont have to answer this if you dont want to  
-but what did you mean by what you said earlier

ponce from euro:  
-I was telling the truth that my father was unwell.  
-It’s just in a different way than the conventional illness.

Trevor’s a bit shocked to say the least. It really isn’t hard to connect the dots after that. So his little hunch is right after all.

Me:  
-are u like ok tho  
-that was a stupid question

ponce from euro:  
-Yes, yes it was.

Me:  
-screw you arsehole im trying to be nice here  
-if you ever need to like, talk about that shit or something, i can offer an ear  
-you also dont really have to worry about sypha, she knows what she’s doing and she most likely won’t end up like me

ponce from euro:  
-I worry for her regardless but I thank you for the offer. For her sake, just attempt to steer her off it a bit?

Me:  
-i can try man but you know how she gets when she anger  
-*she’s angry 

ponce from euro:  
-Oh believe me, I do know.

Me:  
-haha  
-how’d you and syph meet anyways

ponce from euro:  
-Well, as you know, we live rather close to one another. My mother always greeted new neighbors when they came along, but since she passed, I decided to do it in her place.

Me:  
-sorry for your loss, man

ponce from euro:  
-It’s alright.   
-She and I clicked rather well because all of her mother having been very ill for a long time and mine having passed. It’s hard to explain; Friendship simply came easily to us.

Me:  
-cool  
-i think i hear my host mom coming upstairs gtg bye

Trevor wriggles quickly under the covers at the sound of light footsteps on the staircase. He’s memorized the sound of his foster parents footsteps by now--Ari, his foster mother, has lighter, faster footsteps than his foster father, Ron, whose steps are heavy and slow. It pays to know which one it is, since Ari is a little more lenient towards his night-owlish tendencies and his chain smoking than Ron, but they both dislike the smoking any way. Ari just yells at him a little less. When he's sure the coast is clear, he peeks at his phone once more, and sees the reply of ‘Good Night.’ on the lock screen. He plugs his phone into the charger and opens a window, lighting a cigarette and taking a long drag. He tries to ignore the small happy feeling that he gets regarding Adrian.

Perhaps this was a start to something that might keep Trevor in this little town for a little while longer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> development, yaaaay! please tell me what you guys think--I love hearing from people. also, trevor and Adrian's text style are based off me and my gf's--the one with the horrendous grammar is me :) Oh, and also! The chapters are gonna be split a little weird because I'm chopping it after I wrote it. Sorry for the short one, folks!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> REST IN PEPPERONIS @ME
> 
> It came to my attention that last chapter got cut off near the ending!! I am so sorry about that. It's all fixed now, so do yourself a favor and go over the ending of last chapter. My apologies!!!
> 
> Aaaaanyway, enjoy! don't forget to tell me what you think!

“So, how’s things with Adrian, Trevor?” Sypha asks.

He and Sypha are in the third floor bathroom again, Trevor counting bills while Sypha eats her fries and rather frantically doing her homework, occasionally letting Trevor eat one. Trevor’s supplier is thankfully back in business, and so Trevor is too. He’s gently managed to get Sypha to stop getting weed off him, as per Adrian’s request. Funnily enough, she only put up a fight at the beginning, before telling him that she didn’t think weed was the best alternative for her after all. He’s still a bit worried about her stress level, since it seems to be rising steadily. She constantly tells him not to worry though, so he tries not to.

Things with Adrian have improved significantly in the few days since they buried the hatchet between them. But Sypha seems a little bit too happy that they don’t hate each other anymore. He raises an eyebrow at her, and Sypha raises both in reply in silent question.

“Fine, I guess. We aren’t at each other’s throats anymore, if that’s what you’re asking.” Trevor grunts in reply. “But we aren’t buddy-buddy either.”

“He told me what happened between you two last week. I’m glad you guys resolved you differences.” Sypha says idly, something irritatingly sly in her tone of voice, like she knows something. “What do you mean by ‘buddy-buddy’ anyway?”

“We aren’t friends, but we aren’t enemies, and the project is going much smoother now that we actually talk to each other. It’s due next Monday, right after Autumn Holiday . Then, unless he starts coming to my territory to eat lunch with us, I won’t really have anything to do with him. Why are you so intrigued about our relationship anyways?”

“Because you and Adrian are my closest friends in this school, and I’d rather not see you two at each other’s throats every time you see each other. What’s wrong with that?”

“Hm.”

They sit in silence for a little while, Sypha tossing the empty fries container into the garbage without getting up, and Trevor counting his money. When he’s just about to slide the money into the smallest pocket in his backpack, Sypha pipes up again.

“What are you doing for the holiday, Trevor?” She asks.

_Getting drunk and crying over my family, probably._

“Nothing.” 

“Well, if you’re just doing nothing, feel free to come over and hang out.” She says.Then, suddenly, the bell rings. “I’ll see you soon, hopefully. If not, have a good holiday!”

Trevor waves two fingers in goodbye, already knowing that the first holiday with his new family is going to be actual hell.

***

He’s drunk.

Really, really drunk.

He’s curled underneath his bed, empty vodka bottle somewhere to the right of him. Nausea washes over him in waves, and he isn’t sure if he’s crying or not anymore. This was a bad idea. A really, really idiotic idea. But at least the sharp ache of fresh grief has dulled a bit with every burning gulp. It’s only the first day, and he’s absolutely fucking wasted.

And it still hurts.

When he’s...like this, he likes to imagine Isabeau taking care of him, remembering her warm hands and her soft reprimands. He likes to imagine Ivan reading him a story, silly voices and all. He likes to imagine Seth, leaning idly on the door frame, watching over his three younger siblings like a hawk watching its young. And then, he’ll open his eyes, and all that warmth, all that comfort, will disappear. And then, he cries.

***

_“Papa, Trevor’s forehead feels hot. I think he’s sick.”_

_He feels a cooler, larger hand press lightly against his forehead. A tutting sound comes from his father. “You kids wouldn’t mind taking care of him, right? I have to go to work.” He says, worry laced into his tone._

_“Don’t worry, Papa! We can take care of him!” Ivan says confidently. “‘Sides, Seth is here to make sure we’ll be ok.”_

_“It’s not a problem, Dad. I can watch them; it’s not any trouble.” Seth adds in._

_“Alright, kids. Be very careful, and call me if anything goes wrong.” His father sighs. He hears his father’s boots clunk against the wood floor of his room, and he hears the door open and close after him._

_“Don’t worry Trevor,” Isabeau says softly, tucking him in more securely. “We’ll take care of you.”_

***

He’s woken from the doze that he wasn’t aware that he’d slipped into by the sound of his door being opened. His brain is too muddled to immediately react with the panic the situation called for, but by then, it’s already too late.

_“Trevor Belmont!”_

Nausea washes over him. Shit.

“Get out from under the bed this instant and tell me why there’s an empty vodka bottle on the floor?! Ariana, get over here!”

“Ron, what are you going on about…? Oh my god, Trevor, are you alright? Christ, what is this kid doing to himself? Should I call an ambulance or something?”

“You might have to, considering the fact that he’s on the floor, drunk! I thought I told you not to be so lenient on him, dammit!”

Trevor rolls over onto his side, barely listening now, already tasting vomit in the back of his throat as he moves. With a soft groan, he feels his stomach increase its rebellion against his attempts to keep the small portion of food and gratuitous amounts of alcohol he’s consumed throughout the day down where it belongs. His resistance against his own body is futile, and seconds later, he’s retching unceremoniously on the floor, choking and sputtering as his stomach desperately attempts to get rid of the alcohol.

He’s out like a light before his foster parents can even approach him.

***

It’s light outside when he wakes up, head positively throbbing and an acrid taste on his tongue. He rolls onto his side so he’s facing his window, and he begins fumbling for the blinds string, squinting irritatedly to avoid the obnoxious sunlight streaming through. When he finally catches it, he gives it a few good yanks until one side blinds fall down half way, which he deems acceptable, and then he lies back down. He draws a blank for a little while about what had happened last night, but then, it hits him like a damn truck.

Well, shit.

He’s royally fucked now, with his little stint yesterday. He honestly didn’t know what he was expecting--now, looking back on it, there was absolutely no way he could have avoided what had happened unless he decided not to be a fucking idiot and drown his sorrows in booze all day. But, you know, he’s a fucking idiot who drowns his sorrows in booze all day. And now, he’s positively fucked. His foster parents are going to decide that he’s not worth their time, and they’re going to ship him off to some other stupid pitying fuckers who think they can deal with him and his problems. He can practically taste his self pity. He hates his life.

Before his brain can spiral off into another tirade of bitter thoughts, he hears his door creak open, tentative and slow. Soft footsteps pad against the wood floor, and instantly, he knows that it’s Ari. He doesn’t want to really speak to either one of his parents now, so he curls himself up a little tighter and resigns himself to pretending that he’s ignoring her.

“Trevor, I know you’re awake,” she starts. He listens the her walk over to his desk and sit in the old chair beside it, and he can practically see the mixture of pity and concern that’s most likely written all over her round face. “We need to talk about what happened. I tolerated the smoking, I tolerated your...issues before this, but long story short, I’m getting a therapist for you.”

Now _that_ gets a rise out of him.

“There is no way in hell I’m going to see a damn therapist.” he snaps, but instantly regrets it due to his headache. Quieter this time, he continues. “And if you get me one, you’re just going to be wasting money and time that could be used for something else.”

“Believe me, Trevor, I wouldn’t be doing this unless I didn’t have to. I wish you would just show some gratitude for what we’re doing for you! We gave you a home, Trevor.”

“Well, I didn’t actually ask for your charity.” He replies scathingly, and relishes in the way that her hackles rise. “You are...ugh! We’re getting you someone, and maybe then you’ll start being thankful for what you got!” Ari shouts, and storms out his room, slamming the door behind her.

Yup. He’s totally fucked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oof...we got a little conflict going on. :D
> 
> Have a lovely day!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm LATE I'M SORRY 
> 
> aaaaanyway, enjoy! and if it cuts off in a wonky place, let me know this time. ao3 is being a little funky with me. don't forget to leave a review...I crave them....

Ari and Ron look up all their alcohol, sharp objects, pills, and anything else they deem too dangerous for him to be around while he’s home alone. Ron wakes him up now, demanding that he take his actual meds and annoying him about it until he does. And as Ari said before, she calls up his social worker and gets him a therapist. She’s tall and willowy in stature, dark brown hair braided neatly and tossed lazily over her shoulder. Her name is Devyn, and he hates her immediately.  
He doesn’t really hate her. He just hates her because she’s his own personal pity party.

“Hello there, Trevor. I’m Dr. Luthor, but you can just call me Devyn.” She says on Saturday when she arrives. He gives her a little huff to indicate that he’s listening, and so, she goes on. “ Your social worker is having me come see you once a week now, so whenever you need a listening ear, I’m the one to go to. You don’t have to talk to me now, and I won’t pressure you to talk at any point in time, alright?”

He nods, and they sit in silence for two hours, until she bids him farewell and leaves.

“Having me see a therapist is absolutely useless, by the way.” Trevor grunts to Ari when she home, then retreats into his room before she can get a word in edgewise.

Soon enough, it’s Monday, and thanks to his foster parents, all his weed is gone. He breaks the sad news to his customers, who wish him good luck in smuggling weed past his ever vigilant guardians. Now, it’s back to just him and Sypha at lunch. He can’t say that he minds very much--Sypha is his only real friend here, after all. He’s still not comfortable enough to tell her what really lead up to him being caught, though, but he doubts that he ever will be. That’s his problem to deal with, and his only.

The afternoon passes by rather quickly, most of his classes diving into new topics to get back in the swing of things. Not thinking about the time made it go faster, and so, before he knows it, he’s in last period. Mrs. Bradbury makes a list of what groups go in what order the first thing, and he and Adrian end up being last for this period. He barely listens to his fellow presenters as they go up, instead choosing to go through the powerpoint and make sure everything’s up to snuff. The final thing actually turned out pretty nice—especially considering the fact that they barely worked together for at least half the project’s duration. With his own witty words and Adrian’s strange keenness with aesthetics, he’s pretty sure they’ll get at the very least a B. This project alone could boost his barely passing D- into a D+. Maybe even a C. The thought of achieving anything better than straight D’s is a little bit appealing, he has to admit.

“Alright, thank you girls for your lovely presentations! Now, let’s have Trevor and Adrian come up.” Mrs. Bradbury says, near the end of the period. He almost gulps. Almost.

The presentation is much less awful than he’d thought—all he had to do was read from the slides and occasionally make eye contact with the class. It goes fairly smoothly, a few hitches only popping up when Trevor accidentally spaces out and doesn’t start reading the next slide. Thankfully, soon, the whole ordeal is done, and Mrs. Bradbury looks pretty impressed with what they’ve put together. But most importantly, Trevor isn’t required to talk to Adrian anymore.

It’s a shame that he actually started to enjoy talking to the guy. But he’d be damned before he admits that to anyone but himself.

***  
The rest of the week is fairly uneventful, save for a lot of verbal altercations with both Ron and Ari. His relationship with them was decent at best in the first place—now it’s rather abysmal. The only reason Trevor really cares is that he has grown a bit attached to this stupid, dreary little prep town, try as he might to deny it. At this point, if he were really dead set on leaving, he would’ve done something worse than just occasionally cussing them out. But there are two very, very good reasons why he hasn’t already fucked this delicate homelife up.

1) Because he actually, genuinely likes it here.

2) Because he’s almost 17 already, and if he doesn’t find a home that will adopt him in about a year, the county will drop his sorry ass on the street with absolutely nothing.

It’s one of the reasons why he sold weed in the first place—to make enough money so that he could live on his own and fund his rather expensive habits without worrying too much. But thanks to his guardians, it’s either going to be a lot harder selling weed, or he’s going to have to find some way for them to adopt him. Them having been willing to potentially spend money on him that didn’t involve the money they got from the county was a good sign that they cared, at least a little bit. But he doesn’t particularly want to stay with Ron and Ari for the rest of his life, either.

The weekend is a bit of a trainwreck, to say the least. He gets into some very heated arguments with both Ron and Ari, which is a bad sign. By Monday, he’s just so fucking tired of it all that he almost doesn’t bat an eyelash over the sight of Adrian in the third floor bathroom with Sypha, eating lunch on the floor together.  
“Uh.” He says rather stupidly, instead of forming a proper sentence. Sypha and Adrian look up at him and his bewildered expression, Sypha giving him a smile while Adrian remains indifferent looking.

“Hey Trevor, I really hope you don’t mind Adrian sitting here from now on. I figured that since you guys were getting along better, I’d invite him up here, since he really doesn’t have any place to sit out there.” Sypha says, and there’s something in her voice that seems innocent but knowing at the same time, and it instantly irritates him a little.

“Whatever, I don’t care.” He replies, and the rest is history.

Suddenly, his world felt a little bigger, a little wider than before. Like he could see a little better, or something became clearer. Trevor Belmont did not need friends. He only used to have associates and acquaintances, never more than that. But as he sits down and grumpily munches on some shitty cafeteria bought fries, he finds that he doesn’t mind having a friend after all.

Or two.  
***  
When he wakes up, he knows that something is wrong.

He checks his phone. One look at the date, and he instantly knows why.

November 19th. His twin siblings’ birthday.

Isabeau and Ivan would be 22 by now. He can’t help but wonder what they’d be doing right now—probably would’ve been fresh out of college, future looking bright, jobs just on the horizon. Coming to visit him all the time, refusing to stop doting upon their baby brother even with their busy schedules. Always keeping the family tightly knit. 

But no. He’s barely faced this reality anywhere close to sober, but now he has no choice.

Isabeau and Ivan had been murdered when he was 10 years old.

Right alongside his eldest brother, Seth, and both his parents.

To this day, he still has the memories of fire and smoke and screaming, of flashing lights and endless tears. He still remembers the five separate coffins, arranged neatly in a line, their lids closed because the adults decided it was too much for him to see. He still remembers the crushing feeling of pure, unbridled grief. He still remembers the moment that he closed himself off to the world.

He still remembers being shoved out of the way by his older sister, only to see her be hidden from view because of flaming wood.

He still remembers crying to his brother, begging him not to go back. Ivan just gave him a hug, smiled, and took off with an “I’ll be back!” tossed over his shoulder.  
He never came back.

It was his fault really, in both aspects of Isabeau and Ivan’s deaths. If he’d moved quicker instead of struggling against Isabeau to get back to the parents that he knew were dead, maybe she’d be alive now. If he’d just clung to Ivan a little tighter, a little longer, then maybe he’d at least have Ivan left. But no, he had to fight against her. He let go of Ivan when he should have held on a little longer. And now, here he is, alone in this world that couldn’t give a rat’s ass about him.

He misses them. All of them. His mother and father, Seth, Ivan and Isabeau. 

The door opens, and he knows that it’s Ron with his meds, so he quickly turns to his window and curls a little tighter around himself. His eyes are already wet with the stupid tears he’s become so familiar with in the past two weeks, and he viciously wipes his face on the mattress sheet until it burns. Ron either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care, because Trevor can hear him humming that stupid fucking song that he always hums in the morning. He’s already decided that he’s not talking to anyone today, nor is he setting foot outside the bed. Today is his day to drown himself in sorrows in a way that doesn’t involve drinking, no thanks to Ron.

“Alright, up and at ‘em, Trevor,” he says. When Trevor doesn’t respond, he’s quick to become irritated. “Trevor, please cooperate and take your meds. I really don’t want to have to deal with this today.”

Well, there goes the no talking for today.

“Well I don’t want to fucking deal with you either, so get out,” he spits venomously back. Somewhere in his mind, a little part of him says that talking is still a bad idea, and he should really just keep his mouth shut. But then again, when has Trevor ever done that?

“What did you just say to me?” Ron demands, and somehow, some way, the dam just breaks.

Trevor shoots up to a sitting position, not even bothering to wipe his tears at this point. He’s too angry to care. “I said, I don’t want to fucking deal with your bullshit, Ron!” He shouts, digging his blunt fingernails into his palms so hard that it hurts. “At least you don’t have to celebrate your brother and sister’s birthday with them six feet under! Today is my day. It’s my day to drown myself in my own fucking self pity, which would be ten times easier if I had fucking booze to swim in for the next 24 goddamn hours, but we can’t all have what we want, now can we?!”

He’s met with a silence that’s so thick with emotion that he can scarcely breathe. “I’m not going anywhere today.” Trevor finally says, scrubbing his face to rid it of tears. “So just...just go.”

Ron doesn’t need to be told twice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hehe more angst sorry not sorry
> 
> Next time the update will be on time!!!


End file.
